


A Bad Night

by Citrine (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Catheters, Desperation, Kidnapping and a little bit of bondage, M/M, Pre-Slash, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Citrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting kidnapped is never a good idea, getting kidnapped by Moriarty is a worse one:</p>
<p>He pressed the heel of his hand against the base of Sherlock’s stomach.  Sherlock bit his already bloody lower lip. His knuckles were white, grasping the chains that held him upright. He kept his gaze fixed on some far spot on the warehouse roof, but John could see the pain on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bad Night

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote fairly quickly and not beta read so apologies in advance for any mistakes.

“No!” John shouted. The harsh, authoritarian tone made even Moriarty hesitate.

He turned his head and grinned at John, an insane overgrown schoolboy who wanted to rule the universe. “But Sherlock needs a wee-wee.”  Moriarty’s hand hovered a fraction above Sherlock’s naked, swollen abdomen. “And he won’t go for Daddy.”  He pressed the heel of his hand against the base of Sherlock’s stomach.  Sherlock bit his already bloody lower lip. His knuckles were white, grasping the chains that held him upright. He kept his gaze fixed on some far spot on the warehouse roof, but John could see the pain on his face.

“Don’t,” said John sharply when Moriarty started to bear down.  He shook the sweat out of his eyes and stained uselessly against the bonds that held him to the chair. “Leave him alone.”

Moriarty giggled. “Don’t get cross, Johnny. I’m not going to hurt your precious baby.  I’m just going to make him have a wee. You know that it isn’t good for him to hold it until he’s all tight and desperate.” He patted Sherlock’s stomach. “He might even thank me afterwards.”

“Go to hell,” Sherlock ground out from between gritted teeth.

“Ah, not up to your usual standard of insults, is it, baby? You must really need a wee-wee. Now are you going to be a good boy for daddy?”

Sherlock’s desperate, hurt moan filled the air when Moriarty pressed down. He tried in vain to twist away from the pressure on his abdomen.

“Just let go,” John called to him across the empty, echoing space. “Give him what he wants before the lunatic ruptures your bladder. Piss on the bastard!”

Moriarty tutted. “That isn’t nice, Johnny.”

“I can’t.” Sherlock gasped. His agonised gaze met John’s for a moment. “I just can’t.”

 “Yes, you can,” John replied. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, just do it, Sherlock.”

Sherlock groaned. His forehead fell forward against his outstretched arm. “I didn’t say won’t, I said can’t…it …I’m absolutely bursting, but I just can’t go.”

Moriarty pouted. “Now don’t tell fibs, only naughty boys lie to their daddies.”

“Wait, he might not be lying,” said John. “It can happen.  He’s held on for so many hours his muscles might just have seized up on him.”

“Now you’re the one who’s fibbing.”

“I’m the one with the medical degree.” John was thankful to see that Moriarty had at least stopped pushing down on Sherlock’s stomach. “Sherlock, have you tried to piss?”

A quick jerky nod. “I’ve been trying for the past bloody half an hour.”

John hated hearing the despair in his voice. “It’ll be okay.” He turned his head to look at Moriarty. God, he was going to kill this mother-fucker. “He needs medical help.”

“Your medical help, I suppose?” said Moriarty scornfully. “Does Johnny want to play doctors and nurses?”

John fought to keep his voice firm and calm. “If he can’t urinate naturally I need to insert a catheter to drain his bladder, otherwise it might rupture or the pressure might force his urine back up into the kidneys.”

“Is that bad?” asked Moriarty in mock concern.

John looked at Sherlock, even at this distance he could see the sheen of sweat his skin. “Very bad,” he said quietly.

Moriarty leant on a handy packing case and started examining his fingernails. “Decisions, decisions, that’s the trouble with being a criminal mastermind I always have to make all the decisions.  Now do I want to see Sherlock’s bladder burst or do I want to watch Dr I-am-not-gay Watson stick a tube up his cock?”

“It’s an emergency medical procedure, not a sex game.”

“Ah, but this is pretty Sherlock we’re talking about.” Moriarty laughed. “Twenty quid says you can’t do it without getting a stiffy.”

“All right, you’re on.” John could put up with Moriarty’s taunts just as long as he let him do this sooner rather than later. Sherlock was too pale and too quiet for his liking. “Obviously you’ll have to untie me and I need the proper sterile equipment. I’m not going to improvise.”

Moriarty looked at his watch.”It’s nearly one in the morning. Where am I supposed to find a catheter at this hour?”

“If you can’t manage that I don’t think much of your super international criminal organisation.”

 “Well I’d hate to disappoint you, so we’ll have to see what we can do then, won’t we, Johnny boy?”

It took far longer than John would have liked for one of Moriarty’s lackeys to arrive with the required equipment. Every time Sherlock whimpered he winced, but there was no point even trying to say something comforting because it was all fuel to the fire for Moriarty. The man was bored with waiting, hyper and dangerous. John knew that he was going to have to tread very carefully even before the lackey handed Moriarty a handgun.

“Just in case you decide to get clever, Johnny.”

“I won’t.” Escape or even killing Moriarty wasn’t as important as helping Sherlock. Though John did wonder for a moment whether it was possible to strangle someone with a catheter tube.

“Drop your trousers just in case. It’ll make it so much harder for you to run away and I’ll be able to see when you get harder.”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” John had no choice but to obey.

Sherlock managed a ghost of a smile when John knelt next to his feet. “You look ridiculous.”

“You should see yourself,” whispered John.

“Cut the sweet talk and get on with it boys,” ordered Moriarty.

John did as he was told. It was nothing that he hadn’t done before at Barts and as an army medic, just a simple, standard procedure. He could do it in his sleep. The only thing was he didn’t like the way Sherlock was shaking or how hot his skin was even though it was cold in the warehouse.

“Are you warm?” he asked quietly.

“Cold…so cold,” Sherlock groaned. “Oh, fuck, it hurts.”

John knew that he must be in agony. This close up he could see how alarmingly swollen Sherlock’s abdomen was. His bladder had to be almost at bursting point. “It’s okay, this won’t take me long.”

At least it wouldn’t if he could keep his hands steady. He took a deep, steadying breath. This was no different to all the other times, not if he ignored the trigger-happy lunatic and didn’t even think that he’d never touched Sherlock’s cock before this moment. It was no different to an arm or an elbow, just a piece of flesh and he wasn’t even that way inclined.  Just push the foreskin back gently and wipe the head with an antiseptic swab.  

“Ah, isn’t that lovely, why don’t you kiss it better, Johnny?” Moriarty had moved in for a closer look.

“It wouldn’t be sterile then.”

“What are a few germs among friends?” The gun barrel touched John’s temple. “Now give Sherlock’s cock a little kiss.”

John knew that Moriarty was fully capable of pulling the trigger. He leant forward and touched his lips as lightly and briefly as he dared to the crown of Sherlock’s cock. His nostrils filled with the scent of Sherlock, sweat, male musk and the few drops of piss that had seeped out. John felt something stir deep inside him and he closed his mind to it.

“Now I’ve just got to get the tube in. It may be a bit uncomfortable so just try to relax.” Under the circumstances that had to be the stupidest medical advice ever.

At least he was able to feed the catheter tube in without a hitch. “That’s it, it’s in.”

Sherlock whimpered. “John, please…”

“Hush, it’s all right. I’ve just got to release the valve.”  John bent forward to get a slightly better grip and his forehead bumped on Sherlock’s thigh. This time the kiss came unbidden, without instruction or conscience thought.

“I think this could change your whole way of life, Johnny.”

“Shut up.” John focused on what he was doing. Standard medical procedure.

“Your cock just twitched.” Moriarty put his head on one side. “Yeah, definitely a twitch.”

John didn’t need Moriarty to tell him that. Christ, could this get any worse? Thankfully it should be better for Sherlock in a couple of minutes.  That was what he needed to concentrate on. John opened the valve and deep yellow urine started to flood into the catheter bag.

There was a deep, shuddering sigh from above him. “Oh…” Sherlock sobbed. “Please…”

God, it sounded almost sexual. John bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s all right. It’s coming out now.”

Moriarty was right behind John. “Oh, you’re sexy, Sherlock.”  He watched avidly for a few more seconds. “Close the valve,” he said suddenly. “Make it stop, Johnny. I want to play some more.”

Sherlock moaned in despair. “Oh, no, please. I’ve got to go…”

“No, I won’t,” said John. “It’s inhuman.”

And Sherlock was only human and so was Moriarty, who was standing just behind him.

It was a kaleidoscope of quick violent images afterwards. John jabbed his elbow back with all his weight behind it straight into Moriarty’s groin. He doubled-over with a groan and John turned wrestling the gun from his grip. Moriarty still had the presence of mind to try and snatch it back. The gun slipped from their combined grip and spun away across the concrete floor. John hit him hard, military style and Moriarty crumpled on the second blow. He could have killed him then, should have killed him then, but Sherlock was his main concern.

John found the key for the manacles in Moriarty’s pocket. Sherlock’s legs gave out the moment he was unchained and they collapsed together onto the floor. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s shaking shoulders, rocking him gently. He hid his face in the dark matted and kissed his temple.

“It’s okay, it’s fine, it’s all okay.”

Only it wasn’t okay when he felt Sherlock’s lips on his cheek. John pulled back a bit. “Let’s get his tube out of you and get you home.”

Sherlock studied his face for a moment. He nodded. “All right.”

John was a good doctor and a good friend. He helped Sherlock dress and then fastened his own jeans up quickly with an embarrassed flush.  Sherlock was feverish and unsteady on his feet. Luckily they found a taxi to take them home quickly. Once they were safely back at Baker Street John put an unresisting Sherlock to bed with a hot water bottle provided by Mrs Hudson. He’d told her that Sherlock had a nasty kidney infection which wasn’t far from the truth. John left her to watch over him while he went to the chemist for some antibiotics.

“He’s sound asleep,” she said when John got back.

“He can have these when he wakes up then.” John patted Mrs Hudson’s arm. “Thank you.”

“Just call me if you need anything else, dear.”

 John fell onto the sofa once she’d gone downstairs. He had been a prisoner for much less time than Sherlock had, but he felt shattered. John lifted his head slowly and stared at Sherlock’s bedroom door. If he went in there now and crawled into bed beside him Sherlock wouldn’t turn him away.

Only he couldn’t because he wasn’t gay.

Correction he wasn’t sure if he was gay and maybe now wasn’t the right time to find out.

John stretched out on the sofa with a cushion under his head. He pulled the old plaid blanket over himself and fell asleep almost immediately.

 

 

 


End file.
